Page 11 of Scotch & Shortbread

Sipping her drink through her straw, she just let the melody flow through her. God, the band was really good. It was maybe a smidge disappointing that she hadn’t found some hottie to dance with, but at the same time, she didn’t mind. In her mind's eye, she pictured the cop. She thought about his smile. If he’d led with that, everyone would be putty in his hands. He was probably taller than every guy in this room, definitely the most muscular. She looked around as she sucked back the remainder of her drink.

Realizing her glass was empty, she turned and made her way to the bar for a refill at the end of the song. She was feeling tipsy, but one more wouldn’t hurt. Her thoughts were still on the cop. She was thinking about what Meg said—that he liked her. At the time, she was far too frustrated to question Meg about it, but thinking on it now, she wondered what sparks her girls thought they saw between them. Not that it mattered really. She probably wouldn’t see him again anyway. Or would she? Small-town life wasn’t like the big city. Maybe she would run into him again. Butterflies danced low in her belly at the thought. Before she could push away the sensation, someone bumped into her making her spill her newly poured drink down the front of her white blouse.

“Oh sorry,” some guy muttered, proceeding to paw at her chest as if to dry it.

“Hey!” she snapped pushing him away from her. He threw his hands up in a truce as he stumbled backward. Quinn scowled and made her way to the washroom. She leaned her chest awkwardly under the tap and simultaneously tried to wave her fingers in front of the tap sensor. Giving up on that, she tried to shove her chest under the hand dryer to try and dry up the worst of it. Straightening up before she fell over, she looked in the mirror and sighed.

“Ugh.” Her pretty white sheer blouse was now ultra-sheer and wet with an obvious pink hue.

Two women piled into the washroom. One of them went into a stall, and one stood beside Quinn, putting down two shot glasses filled with some kind of clear alcohol and began checking her makeup in the mirror. She caught Quinn’s reflection.

“Aww sweety,” she said sympathetically looking over at her. “You look sad.”

“I know, someone spilled my drink on me,” she whined. “My new blouse is stained. My friends abandoned me. Well, sort of. They are having fun withboysno doubt and you know what?” She looked at the woman with curly hair who was looking back at her like she was her long-lost sister, empathy, kindness and love all floating around in her squinty hazel eyes as she listened attentively. “Not one boy even asked me to dance,” Quinn said with an exaggerated pout.

Quinn’s mind was feeling fuzzy from the drinks, and when the long-lost sister woman in front of her wrapped her in a big supportive hug, she had no qualms about hugging her right back. They swayed locked in their drunken embrace for what felt like ages. When they pulled apart, the curly-haired woman picked up a shot glass and handed it to Quinn, “Here, friend, you could use it more than me.”

Quinn nodded, taking the glass while appreciating the woman’s care for her. She shot it back. “Here have another,” the woman said. “My friend and I can get more after.”

“Thanks,” Quinn said not even phased by the drunken exchange.

“Come on, Tanya.” The woman’s friend snagged her arm. “I want to go find those cops, especially the big muscled one. My God, did you see his biceps? I swear they are bigger than Miley Cyrus’ hair at the Grammys.”

Released from Tanya’s hold, Quinn had to focus on her balance, but she needed to know. “What cops?” she blurted with her head feeling fuzzy.

“Ah girl, you didn’t see them? They’re in the bar. So hot.”

Quinn’s brain was functioning a little slower with the effects of her vodka crans and the two shots she’d just taken, but this conversation had her intrigued. “Wait, like off-duty cops?”

“Oh, hell no, like on duty, cops in uniform. As in hot as hell.” The woman looked at Quinn slyly.

“Really? Here now and one with big biceps? Was he really tall and mean-looking with blue eyes?”

“I don’t know what colour his eyes were!” she snapped exasperated. “But I do know I’m gonna get out there and find out!” And with that, she grabbed Tanya’s arm and hauled her out the washroom door, leaving Quinn standing there.

Quinn looked back to the mirror and saw her drunk self with a giant pink stain on her blouse, she realized she’d had more than enough to drink, and it was time she headed back to the inn. There was the drunken part of her that wanted to run into Mean Hot Cop, but fortunately, she still had some sense and realized that may not be the best idea right now. Not that she liked the idea of these other women trying to findhercop.

She smirked at herself in the mirror and then giggled. So silly. He wasn’t her cop. And good luck to those women. He was a mean ass. They had no idea what they were in for. She shook her head and walked out of the washroom.

The bar crowd had thinned out, and Quinn went in search of her friends somewhat nervous that she might run into the cop. She found Meg right away. She and shooter dude were still making out in the corner, and Quinn decided not to interrupt. As she passed the back bar looking for Belle, she noticed two cops leaning up against the wall and smiled both relieved and a little disappointed. Mean Hot Cop wasn’t here after all.

Nearly doing a full circle of the bar, she eventually found Belle at a smaller sidebar. She was standing with the guy she’d been dancing with. “Hey, Belle.” She sidled up beside her friend. “I’m going to head back to the inn.”

“Oh, I can come with you if you want,” Belle said. Quinn knew her friend would come if she wanted her to, but she could tell that Belle wasn’t ready to leave yet. Quinn didn’t mind in the least. She intended to get out of her clothes and high heels, chug some water, and crawl into bed.

“No, no, you stay. I’m good. Meg’s is in the back with the shooter guy so just don’t leave without her.”

“Okay, for sure. We’ll see you later then. Love you!” Belle gave Quinn a squeeze.

“Love you too. Be safe.”

9

Mean Cop. Hot Cop.

Sittinginhispolicetruck outside the Purple Deer with his trusty pup Bear sitting up front beside him, Alex was finishing up some notes for his reports in the morning. When he looked up a group of three men stumbled rowdily out the heavily carved wood door of the bar. He watched as they lit up smokes. The door opened again, and a woman came out with curvy bare legs ending in black high heels and a dark green coat hugged tightly to her. Shit, he recognized her immediately—Ms. West.

The men zeroed in on her like wolves to prey, and Alex slid on his leather gloves his fists tightening, ready to bring down thunder. One of them jeered towards her, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she tightened her arms around her thin wool coat and tucked her head down as she hurried forward through the parking lot. Even from this distance, her body language was obvious. She wanted to get the heck out of there. Alex saw her glance towards them as she tried to navigate through the thickening snow. But they weren’t going to let her get away so easily.

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